| Because we can all cheese, and we can all wild
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| And when you see Davis, tell him I’m Miles
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| Cuz' we can play cool, and we can play loud
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| And even if you’re geeked up leaning stay down
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| Cuz' we live on that
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| Ground, ground, we stay down
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| Even in the clouds you know we stay down
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| Yeah we gon' trip, trip, yeah we gon' clown
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| But when you need back up, you know who’s down
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| We be standing up tall for balloons and parades
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| The shoulders of giants pursuits and persuasions
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| The long path of the greats wasn’t paved
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| But we loyal to the soil that we moved for the graves
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| And we digging in- yeah we down for the cause
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| And the calls from the friends who were down from before
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| We step back looking at the messed that we caused
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| Hoping that they know you’ll be down when it’s on
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| As the plot thickens… that timepiece glistens
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| As it mocks every glance like a chance went missing
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| That milkbox mission with that milquetoast motherfucker
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| He prolly trippin' over grace at his last supper
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| The stammer the stutter we Geoffrey Rush
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| We index cards as we work that clutch
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| We carpe diem but it’s never enough
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| Little Caesars runnin' wild who delivers the trust
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| Everybody to the totem pole, and draw straws
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| They all the same length so toast and don’t stall
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| New past, new future, sutures don’t fail us
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| Trust tree strength deep roots and no ailments
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| Flailing arms and careless days behind us
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| Forward steps the next we let define us
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| Let the trumpets blare and live it up
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| Cuz' you know we always down and we never givin' up
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| Down like electric grids after the storm hits
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| Down like investments is in all our school kids
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| Down like your brain cell count after the cool whips
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| Down for the dumb shit- even, though it’s foolish
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| Tryna find a bottle with a bottom get a message out
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| Taking off the blinders, ray charles do the mess around
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| — pink slime for the mind get a better cow
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| We can ground beef cuz' that peace got a better sound
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| But I ain’t trippin' like a hippie sippin' cough surp
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| I’m just sick of seeing cellars with the mossberg
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| Half cocked, unlocked, better knock first
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| Second amendments just get a second til we bratwurst
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| Complicated handshakes for the mock birds
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| Mimicked by the cynics keep it simple til' we drop a verse
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| Dense enough to put a lil' dent inside of momma earth
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| But we ain’t tryna hurt, we got alot of work
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| I’m tryna fill a void, I’m tryna plug a gap
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| And I ain’t talkin' bout some graphic tee’s or chino slacks
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| So let em' lean on that, just like the mannequin
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| A friendly face someone that they can share the panic with
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| So take a deep breath, and let it all out
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| That new soul is something they could never call out
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| We all down like a bank full of stick up kids
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| Chicken nugget luggage sweet n' sour through the bitterness |